


the eyes of a storm

by saintpyrite



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:09:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25814821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintpyrite/pseuds/saintpyrite
Summary: Virgil is a storm at sea and Logan has never been so accepting of his fate to drown.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 16
Kudos: 44





	the eyes of a storm

When he came to them, the tides began to change. 

Logan finds himself drawn to the water, having known only crystal clear waters for so long with low tides and gentle winds yet in the distance, a storm was brewing across the horizon. His curiosity pulls him towards the sands, coarse gold underneath him and he stares across the expanse of the ocean. He ponders on the storm coming their way, the exhilaration of fear whistling in his bones like the wind as if he’d never felt before. 

He thinks of what danger the storm may bring, how he should shelter himself from the flash of light in his smile and the thunder in his voice, that he should run and take refuge from the rain that would find a way to drown him but the storm is far, it’s out of reach and it may pass by. 

It may pass and yet, Logan wonders if those clouds that curl around him, shrouding him in mystery in a way that is enticing will come their way and darken as they beckon closer. He deliberates on how the waters will disturb the peace they had known for so long, how it may beat against the stone of his body if he lets it wash upon his shores and chip away at the walls he’d made there with each turn in the tide. 

Logan had always been far too curious for his own good, always turning over stones to learn what secrets it may be hiding and memorising every grain of sand as if it would make time slow down. As if the passage of time could bend to his stone-cold will, if only it was the knowledge of what time he had lost. It would likely be his downfall, if not for this storm. 

He knew something was coming though, this storm as it eases into their lives with teeth bared in a wicked grin. He can feel the change when the voice of a tempest rushes through him with such force. 

He can feel how this storm is changing the world as he knows it, as they've all known it, he can feel the tides change. 

_(how many people have died at sea before they stopped trying to travel through storms?)_

* * *

The answer happens to be that people will always try to navigate through treacherous waters and high tides, whether they avoid the raging storm or sail through it with reckless abandon.

He is no exception with how often Logan finds himself on the shore, watching the storm roll in and letting the rain drench him to the bone. He is enraptured by beauty despite the danger but he’s read many times how danger and beauty act as synonyms, how the most beautiful things can be the most dangerous and as he stands here, Logan can understand the sentiment. It unfurls before his very eyes and he looks back, he swears the storm _sees_ him as no-one else does with bright and vivid eyes shrouded by dark clouds and when he speaks, Logan hears distant thunder. 

The storm has yet to be given a name, has forgone sharing the name he may have given himself but Logan can wait. He’s a patient man, he’s had to be to get where he is and become who he is but he wants to know everything about the storm as it creeps ever closer into his life and he wants to reach out and see if lightning strikes twice in the same place, if it’ll run marks through his skin and leave a brand he could study and memorise, trace the shapes it leaves. 

He wades through the water, fear ringing in his bones and his body heavy because stones are meant to sink but he pushes forward, anything to get closer to the storm. Logan is smarter than such reckless actions without reason, far too sensible and rational to plunge himself into the murky depths of the ocean where a dark abyss stretches out across the horizon to meet the storm. Never before has he felt such a strong compulsion to throw himself into danger for the sake of satiating his curiosity, his need to _know_ and it’s terrifying but he wants to look into the eye of the storm and embrace it. 

He has to meet the storm halfway, no thunder or flash of light can stop him and no warning from the others can draw him back to the shore. He’s always feared the water, the depths of the unknown but you can’t fear what you know and he _will_ know this storm, calm the electricity that runs through his veins and thunders with emotions so strong it changes the tides. 

_(Logan has always feared the unknown but no more than he has been enamoured with it.)_

* * *

The storm is upon them. 

He is tempered and dangerous, pulling at the tides and waves with lightning precision and his voice echoes through the sky, rolling thunder that rings in Logan’s ears and sends shivers down his spine. Logan is waist-deep in the water, feeling it rise around him and it is terrifying, the fear running over the stone in his chest like frost and he wonders if the storm will kill him first, the raging waters of his own emotions or the shatter of his frost-coated heart. 

The longer they meet, the closer they get and Logan knows it’s dangerous. The tides are violent, they threaten to drag him under but he’s so close to him now, he can see into the eyes of the storm and he thinks _this_ must be how love feels. He’d never be able to place such an impossible and violent emotion, one that rivals the storm at sea warring in his chest and eroding away at the stone heart he’s held onto. 

And god, to love the storm would be a dangerous thing and it could kill him, he’s sure but Logan doesn’t want the storm to pass. He thought he’d be able to go back, where a settled peace and calm waters took up his days but he’s found beauty in the danger, in the throes of water filling his ears and the call of the wind. He could learn to love the cold in his skin, the thunder in the sky and the electricity in the air as it flashes across the sky in arcs that could pass for the sword of the archangel of war with how tremendous and brilliant and devastating they can be. 

Logan doesn’t want the storm to pass when he thinks about how his laughter sounds like thunder, loud and unexpected and it ends far too fast. He doesn’t want it to pass when he commits to memory the cool gales that brush over his skin when their hands touch or the fear that pushes Logan to go further, beyond the confines of comfort to embrace danger. 

Logan thinks this may be love, if he’d ever known it before because he wants to soothe the storm with gentle touches and warmth he’s never felt before and he wants to feel electricity dance between their fingers, feel the static dance along their skin as they pull on one another, laughing and talking in hushed whispers, observing the night sky. 

He’s never been more terrified in his life.

_(but Logan can’t turn back now, the water is too high and he’s too far out.)_

* * *

The storm passes and Logan is left throwing stones that sink into clear waters in hopes of a ripple, a sign of a storm rolling in. They hear nothing, Logan hears nothing and he’s sick of feeling the sun on his face and calm, low tides when he could have _him_ instead.

Patton brings them tea, watches as Roman and Logan roll out maps and plot routes because Logan won’t stop until they find his storm. He’ll bring him home, chase him down thousands of miles for a glimpse because he’s enraptured, enchanted by the storm that swept him up in gale winds and haunts his dreams. 

It should come as no surprise when they find him and Logan finds him breathtaking, beautiful as can be even when he’s reduced to a mere breeze, downtrodden and defeated. Logan pulls out parchments stained with ink and sweat and tears and everything he could pour into it, tells him the reasons he should come home and be with _them_ , with _him_ and he doesn’t know how to stop talking now because he’s searched for so long for the one person who made him feel and he’s _here_. 

He’s never been good with emotions and feelings but he needs him to know, reaching out and pressing a cold hand to his chest to feel the warmth there. It’s a heat he’d never had, a molten core that broke through the layers of his stone heart and it _beats_ for his storm and he needs him to know, needs him to come home and it shouldn’t be so hard to say yet it is so all he can do is _feel_ and hope the storm feels him too. 

_Feeling_ , Logan thinks with a peal of bittersweet laughter because he’d always told Roman how frivolous and distracting such a thing could be, how it’d do nothing but drag him down because there is no control over love, no order or reasoning with such emotion but with him, he doesn’t care about order or reason. 

He just knows this feeling is strong, raw and powerful like _him_ , his storm, because this whole thing is a natural disaster waiting to happen but Logan doesn’t want safety or shelter; he just wants lightning to strike him, to pull him in and drag him under. 

_(the gods may strike me down, Logan thinks as he meets the storm’s eyes, so long as it is your lightning that takes me.)_

* * *

_“My name is Virgil!”_

A poet’s name, how fitting for someone who makes Logan want to wax poetry. He finds himself in high waters with Virgil, he can’t get back to shore and he’s ready to accept his fate when the man laughs and smiles, looking at him with eyes in the aftermath of a storm so beautiful.

Logan thinks of Virgil as he always has; a beautiful and dangerous storm but he notices other parts of him that he could never have done before if he hadn’t chased this feeling, chasing the storm that is Virgil to bring him home. He sees the silver lining in the sable clouds of his eyes, the way his voice carries like a sea breeze or a thunderstorm and how he trembles like a ripple in the ocean when anxiety grips him, fear washing over Virgil’s body as if it’ll brew into something more, a maelstrom of horror. 

If it was anyone else, Logan would have been accused of throwing stones but with Virgil, he learns to appreciate the calm waters with a new perspective, someone to share the horizon as the golden sands warm their feet and he learns to tame the storm raging through Virgil’s body, thundering through his veins and boiling in his blood as lightning pulses in his nerves. It’s become a pastime, a memory most cherished.

And it gives Logan an excuse to let the electricity dance along his skin when he runs a hand over Virgil’s shoulder, bringing it to his neck to massage small, soothing circles to calm the tides and bring his storm back from the maelstrom Virgil was drowning himself in.

_(Logan fears drowning himself, sitting on the ocean floor to rot but maybe, just maybe, it won't be so bad if Virgil was the cause.)_

* * *

“Virgil,” Logan feels the waters pull him down into the abyss and he takes a deep breath, “I’m in love with you.”

* * *

Logan slips under, prepared to drown.

The water rises and pulls him down, he lets it do so because fighting it would only make it harder to slip into the dark depths. Logan doesn’t want to fight this feeling anymore, how could he ever have thought to do so?

He’s happy to drown, prepared to do so even because Virgil pulls him in by his shirt and kisses him and it’s all Logan could ever want and more. It erodes away his resolve, the stone falling away and leaving nothing, exposing everything he is and it’s too little and too much all at once that Logan could cry, he’s _drowning_ in Virgil and the depths of his feelings for him.

When Virgil kisses him, saltwater fills his lungs and he can’t breathe as the man takes the air from him, selfish and greedy but neither of them pulls away. He doesn’t remember where they are or who may see them because he has Virgil, the storm he’d chased for so long in his arms and pressing open-mouthed kisses to his soaked skin as he slips further and further into the sea, whispering into his flesh that runs through Logan like thunder and he gasps, the last of his breath is stolen in another selfish, hungry kiss.

As Virgil runs his fingers over his skin, up to his arms and along his chest and neck, lightning passes through them and it hurts. It hurts and it’s pleasant and it’s the best feeling, second only to feeling water in his lungs. Taming the storm that courses in Virgil’s blood are one thing but to be taken by it, it’s an experience one would be happy to die at the hands of and Logan thinks he might have that privilege, that he may die at sea. 

Virgil is water in his lungs, the tempest winds and roaring thunder in his ear, the lightning that leaves its mark on his body when they touch. He’s raw, powerful and dangerous in a way that wards off others but it serves only to bring Logan to the water, to drown him. 

Him, a man so fearful of the bottom of the ocean, so willing to drown there in the unknown if the pressure doesn’t kill him first, just for the taste of saltwater on Virgil’s lips. 

_(Virgil is a storm at sea and Logan is drowning in him just to see into the eyes of the storm.)_


End file.
